DexStar
by Mitchell Movie Productions
Summary: Despite the best efforts of D.A. Gerald Johansen and police commissioner Chris Griffin, and JR. Detective Commissioner Ford Pines, the city becomes increasingly unsafe because of crime...until a Dark Guardian arises. The hero must face his most ruthless nemesis ever while protecting both his identity and his love interest.
1. Prologue- Chicago 1934

The 1920s were an age of dramatic social and political change. For the first time, more Americans lived in cities than on farms. The nation's total wealth more than doubled between 1920 and 1929, and this economic growth swept many Americans into an affluent but unfamiliar "consumer society." People from coast to coast bought the same goods (thanks to nationwide advertising and the spread of chain stores), listened to the same music, did the same dances and even used the same slang! Many Americans were uncomfortable with this new, urban, sometimes racy "mass culture"; in fact, for many–even most–people in the United States, the 1920s brought more conflict than celebration. However, for a small handful of young people in the nation's big cities, the 1920s were roaring indeed.

During the 1920s, many Americans had extra money to spend, and they spent it on consumer goods such as ready-to-wear clothes and home appliances like electric refrigerators. In particular, they bought radios. The first commercial radio station in the U.S., Pittsburgh's KDKA, hit the airwaves in 1920; three years later there were more than 500 stations in the nation. By the end of the 1920s, there were radios in more than 12 million households. People also went to the movies: Historians estimate that, by the end of the decades, three-quarters of the American population visited a movie theater every week.

However, just when things were looking bright in America, things weren't as easy as it seems in Chicago, there was crime around town. Robberies, gangs, mob wars, mafias. The crime in Chicago was devastating, and the police wasn't much help either as some cops were dirty cops. Lives were lost due to crimes, lives were ruined, and while the fight against crime went on in the Windy City, America was about to go through the hardest years in their Interest

On October 29th, 1929, Black Tuesday hit Wall Street as investors traded 16,410,030 shares on the New York Stock Exchange in a single day. Billions of dollars were lost, wiping out thousands of investors, and stock tickers ran hours behind because the machinery could not handle the tremendous volume of trading. In the aftermath of Black Tuesday, America and the rest of the industrialized world spiraled downward into the Great Depression.

Crime worsened, people died, but since June 1934, there has been reports of a child vigilante fighting criminals and mob bosses in the dead of night, cleaning up the streets with his gadgets and utility weapons. Some fear him, but what they don't know is that this vigilante could be the only savior they need in this crime infested town.


	2. Chapter 1- I am Vengance, I am the Night

It was a stormy November evening in the City of Tomorrow. There stark angles, creeping shadows in the buildings, the city was dense, crowded, as if hell had erupted through the sidewalks. Pushers wave to hookers, street hustlers slap high-fives with three-card monte dealers. They all seem to know each other. Several wreckless teens seem to know each other as they're loitering around a statue. Yep, just another night in Chicago in 1934.

A family of tourists holding Playbills march warily down the main drag and out of a theater. Just out of a show. But the respectable theatre crowd has thinned out, and now the mother looked concerned: they're on Chicago's meanest street.

The father noticed there was a cab on the way, the Taxi driver stops as he notices the father signaling that he needs a way to get to his destination.

"Yeah?" The Taxi Driver asks.

"Thank you. Hi. I'd like to go to the Majestic Hotel." The father said, but then a casino owner interrupted as he entered the Taxi.

"'Scuse me." The rude passenger said, before the door shut as the Taxi went off.

"Woah, wait!" The father said, angrily, "I was here first!"

The taxi drove off, going to a certain place, much to the irritation of the father. It's been a great play and all, but all he wants to do is rest up for the night.

"Let's go, we'll go across!" The father then said, annoyed. "TAXI!"

"Can't we just get a taxi, Bobby?" The mother said.

"I'm trying to, Lin!"

Three cabs streak pass and disappear as the boy reads the map.

"We're heading the wrong way!" The boy then said.

"You're making us look like tourists, Gene, put that map away!" The father snaps as people in the street are beginning to snicker. This seems to be a funny sight to them.

"We should cut over to seventh if we'll ever get a cab." The father sighed, the family headed down the street. 2 cops lean on their patrol car outside an all-night souvlaki stand, sipping coffee and chatting with a hooker. The hooker smiles at the boy, who smiles back, as the mother yanks him off down the street and glowers at the dad.

"Seventh is that way." The boy said, making the older Teenage daughter look concerned.

"I know where we are!" The father said, angrily as they walk into a deserted street lined with stripped-down cars. As the family marches into the darkness, the 3 kids looked very disturbed. It's nothing but a filthy, disgusting alley, consisting of trash cans, dumpsters, rats, and bags.

"Yo, bro!" A voice said. It came from a homeless man. He is a green man with shoulder-length, greenish-brown hair. He is also fat and has large breasts. He wears a long-sleeved grayish-blue shirt, dark gray pants, and black shoes. His name was Muscle Man. "Hey, mister. Give me a dollar."

The family rolled their eyes as they tried to get through the alley.

"Come on, bro." Muscle man said, annoyed. "One dollar! What are you, deaf?"

The tourist family ignores them as they speed up, yet they fail to notice a shadowy figure looming in the shadows. A gloved hand slams a gun on the mother and father's necks, knocking them unconscious as the parents fell.

As the teenage daughter is too terrified to scream or do anything, she grabs her younger siblings and backs to the wall. A street punk has the kids at gun point. He is a teenage punk that has black hair, freckles, crooked teeth, grayish skin. He wears a black t-shirt, a red with black striped overshirt with the sleeves rolled up, blue jeans, and white sneakers. His name was Terrence.

"Do your brother and sister a favor, toots," Terrence said as Muscle Man ran to the unconscious parents and grabbed their wallets. "Don't scream."

As the crooks make their getaway, the older teenage sister has tears streaming down her face. She stifles a scream and clutches her sister and brother. The younger siblings are paralyzed with fear.

The two punks as they race away into the night. The little girl's self-control disintegrates as she was traumatized by what she saw. she begins to scream in terror before moving to unconscious Dad. Her screams of terror and fright echo throughout the city, reaching to a darkly ornate Gothic anomaly: The old City Cathedral, once grand, but now, it's boarded up.

Several gargoyles gaze down from their shadowy rooftops. On one of those Gargoyles, is a 9-year old vigilant figure, kneeling as he keeps a vigilant watch over the city. The scream from the girl is heard by the figure as he jumps off and uses his cape to glide into the night.

Meanwhile on the top of an old, tall ghetto building, Muscle Man and Terrence hunker down on the tar-and-gravel roof, sizing up their take. This has been, so far, a good night stealing from the helpless.

" American Express card. "Don't leave home without it."" Terrence joked. The 2 punks laughed, they love stealing stuff. A chill wind blows as Nick counts cash. There's a distant, metallic clang; Muscle Man had an uneasy feeling in his stomach, something's not right here.

"Uh, bro, we should get out here." Muscle Man then said. "I hate this place."

"Why?" Terrence taunted. "You scared of heights?"

"I dunno," Muscle Man said, nervously. "After what happened to Jack Spicer..."

Terrence rolls his eyes, Muscle Man had this fear for many weeks. This has gone on long enough.

"Look, Spicer had too much to drink and took a big fall off a roof. No harm, no foul!" Terrence said as he shuffled the stolen money.

"No." Muscle Man gulped. "That's not what I've heard, bro. I heard that "You know who" got him."

"Goddammit," Terrence said. "Are you ever gonna let it go?"

"Five stories. Straight down. There wasn't any blood in the body." Muscle Man yelped, terrified.

"It was all over the pavement. What did you expect?" Terrence scoffs as he counts his money. Suddenly, another noise is heard. Now even Muscle Man can't ignore the slight tingle at the base of his spine...

"Oh, no, bro!" Muscle Man yelped. "I'm getting out of here, man. You shouldn't have turned the gun on that kid."

"Shut up, man. Listen to me. There ain't no Caped Avenger." Terrence said, losing patience. As he talks, a Vigilant Silhouette is drops in slowly, implacably at the opposite corner of the roof, some fifteen yards away... at the end of a line. "You want your cut of this money or don't you? Now shut up! Shut up -"

Both punks freeze at the sudden, inexplicable sound of boots crunching on gravel. They turn slowly. Their jaws drop as they see the sight of a kid in a black suit with a purple cape, black boots, purple gloves and a utility belt with a D shaped buckle. He had light skin, purple shades, and red puffy hair. He was the vigilante kid that everyone was reporting about.

As the 2 punks ran from the caped crusader, they shot their guns, which the kid dodged and jumped from easily.

As the crooks panicked, stolen money flutters out of Terrence's hands. He scuttles frantically across the roof. A sharp, shiny, black boomerang is thrown at the door, scaring him away from his path to the fire escape. Trapped like a rat, Terrence fires his gun wildly.

Muscle Man's face is pale. The vigilante runs after him as he kicks Muscle Man so hard that he lifts him cleanly off his feet - and sends him flying through the air. Muscle Man slams into a brick chimney and slumps unconscious.

The Vigilante doesn't even break his stride. Not wanting any more of this, Terrence charges past the black wraith, heading toward the fire escape, only for the hero to shoot a grappling hook around Terrence's legs, and Terrence runs forward, only to find his legs ensnared in a tangle of wires. As he falls flat on his face, he drags himself across the gravel roof, the Vigilante at his heels... 'til there's no place left to go as Terrence cowers on the edge.

Terrence keeps shooting with his eyes closed. The vigilante grabs Terrence by the shirt, walks over to the edge as he hoists him into the air. Terrence opens his eyes... only to see that the vigilante is standing on the ledge of the roof, holding the teenager out, at arm's length, over six stories of nothingness. After seeing this, a terrified Terrence isn't exactly clueless, as he knows what the vigilante is going to do with this!

"Don't kill me! Don't kill me, man. Don't kill me! Don't kill me!" Terrence pleaded as he sees the street below him.

"I'm not going to kill you." The vigilante child angrily said in a Russian accent. "I'm giving you this one warning to your friends, beware my wrath."

"What are you?!" Terrence then said, terrified. The Vigilante child angrily pulled Terrence closer to his face.

The vigilante angrily growled, "I'm DexStar."

DexStar heaves him roughly back onto the tar-and-gravel surface of the roof. And then, casually, without a moment's hesitation as lightning strikes and thunder was heard, DexStar steps off the ledge as he shoots his grappling into midair, swinging and gliding off into the night.

As police sirens wail, Terrence faints. The Dark Guardian known as DexStar is real.


	3. Chapter 2- Vigilance

Meanwhile in a dark Alley, a police car was chasing down two crooks, one's named Snake and the other's named Sideshow Bob. The two crooks climbed up to a building and ran on the rooftops.

"Finally!" Snake said. "Away from those nutjobs!"

Suddenly, Sideshow Bob stops and gasps in horror as the Vigilante that terrorized Muscle Man and Terrence jumps right in front of them, glaring at them.

The two pull out their guns, but suddenly, DexStar throws two razor like boomerangs at the guns, knocking them out of the hands of the crooks. DexStar then leaped at Snake and grabbed him by the collar. He then throws him to the ground.

Sideshow Bob then attempts to slice DexStar, but the boy vigilante was too quick for him as he manages to knock out Sideshow Bob with one punch.

By the time the police arrived, DexStar dissapeared off into the night and the crooks were tied up, unbeknownst to them, the vigilante was watching from the rooftop of the building, with his cape fluttering carelessly in the wind.

"No matter what happens, this city's always infested with crime." DexStar mumbled in irritation. "It's time someone put an end to this nightmare."

He then glides through out the city while using his Grappling Hook to assist with him getting good altitude.

In Downtown Chicago City Hall, Mayor Chris Griffin was having a city meeting after it's election. A victory poster fills one wall: "CONGRATULATIONS! A NEW CHICAGO! GERALD JOHANSEN - DISTRICT ATTORNEY."

Roger Doofenshmirtz, hysterical and self-certain introduces the new District Attorney, Gerald Johansen- a young, determined lawyer.

Gerald Johansen is a 10 year old African American boy that is dressed formally in navy blue. And tonight's the biggest night in Gerald's life, he's going to be a district attorney lawyer.

Benson then said, "Throughout the country, the word, "Chicago" is synonymous with crime. Our streets are overrun, and police officials have been rendered weak. And as mayor, before my Term is over, I promise the source of the corruption would be rooted out: Boss Stan Marsh. Our new District Attorney Gerald Johansen will carry out that promise."

The crowd claps as Gerald stood up.

Gerald then said, "I'm a little kid of a few words. But these words will do for now. And so will our actions. I've had a talk with Police Commissioner Christopher Griffin. He's targeted the businesses suspected of fronting of the syndicate in Chicago! We'll knock down their doors and shed the light of the law on those snakes within the week!"

The audiences clapped in delight. Maybe there's hope for this town after all! Chicago's been infested with crime since the Great Depression. And it would be nice for a break and rest from crime, it's bad enough there are sightings of a weird-headed being in the sewers, but the crime has been non-stop for at least 5 years. The city would appreciate a rest.

At an apartment building sparsely furnished but tasteless, chairs and coffee table sit in front of a TV set. High-fashion magazine picture blow-ups all modeled by the same girl on walls.

The 10 year old kid watching the TV wears a red tuxedo, yellow tie, a blue fedora with a yellow strap, brown pants, black shoes, and white socks. He has medium-brown hair and a double-chin. His name was Eric Theodore Cartman, and he was scowling at the news report about Gerald Johansen as Cartman was doing a one handed shuffle of a deck of cards with extraordinary finesse.

"Together, we can make this city safe for decent people." Gerald said on the TV.

"Decent sons of bitches would be happier someplace else. They shouldn't live here." Cartman said as he rolled his eyes.

At the same time, his girlfriend, a brunette girl, walks by. The girl was the same age as Cartman. She wore a purple dress, a pink long hat with a flower on it, and yellow high heels. Her name was Wendy Testaburger. Cartman has his feet on the table, resting on a copy of Vogue on the cover of which is a picture of Wendy. She lifts his feet and rescues the magazine. She is young, very beautiful, and as narcissistic as Cartman.

"Pretty tough talk, ain't it?" Wendy asks, applying lipstick.

"Don't worry about it. I'd have handed him his lungs by now if Johansen laid his hands on Marsh." Cartman said, as Wendy knots Cartman's loose tie playfully about his neck.

"Stan might hand you something if he knew about us..." Wendy giggled.

"Don't flatter me, sweetheart. Marsh can't run shit without me, plus, he has no idea." Cartman chuckled.

"You don't worry about anything, do you, Cartman?" Wendy asks, the boy nods with a sinister smile. Uninterested in her, Cartman's eye darts back and forth between the TV and his own reflection in a nearby vanity. He runs a hand through sculpted hair, checks his fine threads. "You look good."

"I didn't ask." Cartman chuckles.

Meanwhile, the scene of the earlier mugging is now abuzz with police cars, an ambulance, a forensics van. Terrence goes past on a stretcher, catatonic. Watching him are a police medic and a porcine cop, as well as a cop from the Junior division LT. James Pesto Jr., who jots on a notepad. Jimmy has ginger hair and has a similar chin to his father's. He wears a black fedora, a black shirt under a brown trench coat, black pants, and white shoes.

"So, let me guess, a stealthy, little kid, agile?" Pesto Jr. said, annoyed.

"That's it... What are they seeing up there?" The Medic asks.

"They're all drinkin' Drano."

"It's still weird, Lieutenant."

Suddenly, James Pesto Jr. notices something that irritates him even further, it's none other the reporter for the Jr. Chicago Tribune, it's 10 year old Timmy Turner. Timmy wears a pink fedora hat which matches his buttoned long sleeved shirt, and has blue pants and shoes. His hair is colored brown. He has blue colored eyes and buck teeth.

"Hey, guys!" Timmy said, curious.

"Oh, god...Not _that_ guy!" Pesto Jr. said.

"I heard that we got ourselves another vigilante strike! That's 8 sightings within a month. I even heard that the commissioner's opened a file." Timmy said.

"Sorry, buck tooth beaver boy, these two were on smile dip." LT. Pesto Jr. said, bored.

Timmy notices the catonic and scarred for life Terrence blabbering on about DexStar. Timmy grins, this could be a hot scoop.

"If you want to write this shit in the paper, then go ahead and run your reputation to the ground, Turner." LT. Pesto Jr. scoffed.

"A bunch of punks in Chicago are petrified. They say he can't be killed or stopped." Timmy said.

Throwing his sucker at Timmy, Lt. Pesto Jr. said, "Then you can quote me on this: I think you're full of shit!"

The lieutenant walks away laughing.

"Is there a vigilante that's a one man reign of terror? And if so, is he on the police payroll? And if so, what's he pulling down, after taxes?" Timmy said, but unfortunately, the lieutenant leaves into an alley.

In the Alley, Jimmy Pesto Jr. emerges onto the side street...and spies a stretch limo idling nearby. Leaning on the hood, waving hi, is the dandyish Eric Cartman. Cartman's odd driver Butters Stotch polishes the door handle.

Cartman swaggers up and tosses Pesto Jr. a sandwich bag.

"Here's your snack, J-Ju..." Cartman said, bored.

Jimmy Pesto Jr. looks at the sandwich inside. It's full of 100 dollar bills, this guy's a dirty cop! The cop throws a nervous glance back in Turner's direction. If everyone found out about what's going on, he'd lose his job. Thinking quickly, he stuffs it quickly in his coat.

"You might as well make a broadcast about it." J-Ju said, sarcastically.

"Screw you." Cartman said. "Gerald's has been sniffing around one of our front companies."

"If there's a problem in _my_ territory, Cartman..." J-Ju threatened.

"Dude, your problems are our problems." Cartman said.

"I don't answer to a psycho like you, fatass, I answer to Marsh!" J-Ju said, annoyed.

"I'M NOT FAT! I'M BIG BONED!" Cartman snapped. Then he said in a cool tone, "And Second of all, Jimmy Junior, you ought to think about the future."

"You mean... when you run the show?" J-Ju said, skeptically. "You got no future, Cartman. You're an A-1 nut boy and Stan knows it."

Cartman claps a hand on J-Ju's face and shoves him full-force into a wall. Stunned, J-Ju turns bright red and grabs Cartman by the coat collar and whips out his gun. Cartman calmly takes his hand from J-Ju's face as the latter brings the gun up.

"You sure about that?" Cartman cackled.

Scared and Breathing heavily, J-Ju lets go of Cartman's coat and lowers the gun as he enters the Limo.

"See? When you try, a good decision can be made!" Cartman said.

Cartman laughs insanely in J-Ju's ashen face as he leaves with Butters. When Cartman is out of earshot, J-Ju mutters menacingly, "Where does that asshat spend his nights?"

The next day at Town Hall, an elderly, well Roger is showing concern as Mayor Benson is furious. He's been planning a Thanksgiving Parade in Chicago, and he doesn't want any crime spree to ruin it!

Benson is a middle aged man with thinning brown hair and an aftershave. He has light skin and he wears a red tie and a white buttoned shirt as well as black formal pants.

"I want a parade, hot dogs, turkey, balloons, the whole thing! We're going to Celebrate Thanksgiving proudly and **PUBLICLY**!" Benson said, annoyed. "I don't care how much debt this festival is!"

"It's bad enough the Tax base is crumbling, we might be celebrating it in bankruptcy court! You can kiss our bond rating goodbye if this festival crashes! The Festival is $350,000 in the red and we haven't seen one balloon." Roger sighed.

"I got Mordecai and Rigby and their friends to take care of the festival budget. He's got a party of people who'll pay $1000 to see inside of Cavanaugh Manor! You betterfill this square with people, kids, dogs, families, and the businesses will come back here. And if they don't, not only will those two writers from the Jr. New York Times make a laughing stock out of me... _ **YOU'RE FIRED!**_ " Benson yells, making Roger flinch.

 **Next Chapter: Blossom's first appearance!**


	4. Chapter 3- Dexter: Boy Genius Millionair

**So, here we are, some Dexter/Blossom Fluff, and next chapter, Dee Dee will be involved.**

* * *

It was a beautiful morning in the Junior Tribune as kids were working on reports on what happened in the city recently.

Timmy rushes in as he spots Lincoln Loud the cartoonist at his drafting table, with several amused child reporters looking on.

"Welcome, Count Dracula." A kid reporter taunts.

"Had any sightings of Bigfoot lately?" Another reporter taunts.

"Hey, Turner... they buried your story on the Moon Knight. That's what they do to garbage." A reporter named Francis joked.

"This is Pulitzer Prize stuff, guys." Timmy scoffs.

"Hey, I got something for you, Turner!" Lincoln joked as he holds up a drawing of a human rat, with an awful, fanged rodent's face, wearing a boarding school student suit. The caption reads: "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?" Timmy rolls his eyes as he gets laughed at.

"Very funny..." Timmy sarcastically laughs, then he angrily mumbles under his breath, "What a dick..."

Timmy angrily approaches but stops in his tracks as he gasps in awe, "Well, hello legs."

Propped up on his desk are a pair of exceptionally cute legs. Timmy stares as he takes her in - the most cutest girl he's ever seen is attached to the legs. Leaning back in Timmy's swivel chair, reading the Globe. Her face obscured by a big outrageous hat.

The hat tips back. Blossom Plutonium, her face framed by a shock of bright red hair, flashes a dazzling smile.

"Just reading your stuff..." Blossom said.

"I'm also reading yours..." Timmy said, blushingly.

He looks at the over-sized camera bag with decals all over it. Monogrammed "B.P." She stands up and shakes hands with Timmy.

"Blossom Plutonium." Blossom said. Timmy looks surprised. Her attitude is strong, hip, professional for a little girl.

"Yeah, photographer. Vogue, Cosmo. Yeah." Timmy said. "Look, if you want me to pose for your birthday party, you're gonna need a longer lens."

"Actually, I was in the Corto Maltese." Blossom said, She pulls out a sheet of COMBAT PHOTOS - exploding Jeeps, burning huts, bodies in piles. A bloody revolution. Timmy cringes but at the same time was impressed.

"Hey, a little girl could get hurt doing this." Timmy joked.

Blossom could tell that Timmy is impressed but he's also smitten at the same time.

"I was with another child reporter named Neutron at the time." Blossom said.

"What brought you here?" Timmy asks.

"I just wanted to see the wildlife of Chicago." Blossom said.

"Really?" Timmy said, disbelievingly. "Who sent you?"

"No one. I read your piece. There's something about this that's very interesting to me." Blossom said.

"What's your angle?" Timmy asks.

" A picture of a kid in a suit catching criminals?" Blossom said as her hand is sweeping a headline, BATMAN SWEEPS CRIME FROM GOTHAM. "My pictures. Your words. This is Jr. Pulitzer prize material."

"Alright, little miss visionary," Timmy said, exhilarated. "But there's just one problem, not even Mr. Crocker believes me, and he believes in Fairies. Chris Griffin's got a file on this. I can't even get him on the phone."

"Isn't he going to be at Dexter Cavanaugh's benefit?" Blossom asks, slyly.

"I'm not on the guest list..." Timmy sighs.

Sulking, he doesn't notice Timmy reaching into her camera bag. He doesn't see the small white invitation until she dangles it right in front of his nose.

"Will you marry me?" Timmy joked.

"No." Blossom said, chuckling.

"Will you buy me lunch?"

"Maybe. I eat light."

That night, Cartman and his co-conspiritours were at the tallest Penthouse in Chicago known as the Peabody Tower. It's stylish, decorated in Art Deco style and dimly lit. And as you'd expect, Stan Marsh, the 10-year old gang leader of Cartman's crew, was furious about Gerald's plan to eradicate crime in Chicago. His lieutenants bloodless white-collar types as well as a few outright goons- are sprawled nearby in easy chairs.

"What kind of damage are we seeing after this son of a bitch makes a connection ties us in and Schaal Chemicals?" Stan snaps.

"We're boned as s-s-s-s-soon as he makes the c-c-c-c-c-c-connection!" Valmer the Accountant stuttered, nervously.

Cartman slouches in an easy chair doing his one-handed shuffle as he said, "Why the hell can't we just break in? It's simple to do 'industrial espionage', and by that, I do mean trashing the old office and make off with the books."

Stan smiles as he chuckled, "I like the way you think, Cartman. That's the best idea I've heard. As a matter fact, you should handle this operation personally!"

At that moment, Cartman's hand freezes over his lucky deck. Him? In charge of the operation? Is he up for the trask? Nervously, he turns a card off the top. It's not a jack; it's a Joker, a Joker with a neat, round, .22 calibre hole through its face. Then, Cartman shrugs.

At this exact moment, the metal elevator doors slide back, and Wendy Testaburger steps out of Stan's private elevator with an armful of shopping bags.

"Hey, pumpkin..." Stan said. "Would you be okay with hanging out in the other room?"

Wendy giggled as she left. Her gaze meets Cartman's nervously as she vanishes through a side door. The eye contact is not lost on Stan at all. The two have had a relationship for years, but if Stan knew that Wendy's cheating on Stan, Cartman would never be able celebrate his 11th birthday.

"Thanks guys..." Stan said. "You can go."

Stan's cronies file. Cartman, troubled, lingers behind. He looks miserable and obviously doesn't want to go, but obviously, he wants to talk to Wendy again about this, so faking his illness is the one way to go.

"Stan, I don't think I'm up for the task, those fumes in that place..." Cartman said, nervously.

"It's a real big deal, Cartman. You're the only man I trust, you're my Number One man!" Stan said. "Don't forget your lucky deck!"

Stan puts the cards into Cartman's hat. Cartman, resigned, sighs as he gets ready for his job for tonight. Suddenly, Stan grabs the phone as he said, "Get me Lieutenent Pesto Jr!"

Meanwhile, most of the city is at a vast, rambling mansion on sixty wooded acres a half-hour's drive from Chicago. Out front, a team of red-jacketed valets are parking expensive cars.

The ballroom is outfitted with roulette wheels for a Casino Night. Chicago's power elite are excited as they eagerly throw cash into Mayor's festival box next to a small banner "SAVE THE FESTIVAL!" At the same time, A 9 year old redheaded kid with glasses and a tuxedo enters from the kitchen. He's a rich, smart kid with a thousand things on his mind. But when you think he's not paying attention - you're dead wrong. He doesn't miss a thing. He's none other than the one and only Dexter Cavanaugh.

A waiter hands him something to sign. He signs and the waiter exits. Left with the pen, he isn't sure what to do with it. He looks around and finally decides to put it in a flowerpot. Just then an overweight butler, mild mannered but with sense of humor, appears and takes it from him. This butler is named Bill Dauterieve. He smiles as Bruce continues through the foyer past Timmy Turner, in his cheap suit, staring inquisitively up at the ceiling. Bill appears with a tray of root beer glasses. He, too, looks up at the ceiling.

Bill chuckled as he said, "Need any help, kid?"

"Well, I'm willing to bet if you cut your tub in half, you'd have my whole apartment." Timmy joked.

"We do have a gigantic bathroom." Bill laughed. Laughing, Timmy takes a drink and Bill leaves, but he stoops to pick up some glasses, the other glasses on his tray slide. He's caught a bit. Blossom, well dressed in a pink dress, catches the glasses. He smiles as Bill hands her a drink.

"Thanks." Blossom said.

"No, _thank_ you." Bill insisted as he left. Blossom then bumped into Dexter, the two face each other as she asks, "Excuse me...Could you tell me which of these guys is Dexter Cavanaugh?"

"Well, I'm not so sure." Dexter joked.

"Well, thanks anyway." Blossom shrugged as she walked off, leaving behind a intrigued Dexter.

At craps table, Commisioner Chris Griffin is blowing into his fist, he rolls dice, only to get Snake eyes. He passes the dice as Turner and Blossom arrive.

Timmy asks, "Commissioner! How about that rumor that Commissioner's got a file on the DexStar, That's not true, is it?"

"There isn't a vigilante named Dexter, if there was, he'd be arrested!" Chris snaps.

"Would you confirm him? Be straight with me, Commissioner." Timmy said as Gerald arrives at the table.

"How's your luck, Chris, my man?" Gerald asks.

"Love the tie, Mr. Gerald Johansen." Timmy said. "We were talking about vigilantes, so care to weigh in your opinion?"

"We've got other problems to worry about other than a kid playing Super Hero!" Gerald scoffs as an officer motions to Chris to leave, Blossom and Timmy fallow him as he watches them, especially Blossom.

In the armory, the 2 reporting kids are still looking for Chris Griffin, but to no avail. Timmy only goes goggle-eyed at the armory. On the wall hang exotic weapons. Every arcane implement of death the human mind has ever devised. Impressed, Timmy lets out a low whistle, Dexter's got everything in his house, what would his family think of this?

"Look at this kid!" Timmy said, not knowing that Dexter is about to eavesdrop on the conversation.

"He donates to all types of charities, and collects it all. Odd..." Blossom said, intrigued.

"Probably does it to get girls. Gotta like those big charity balls!" Timmy said.

"Don't leave out on his very large bankroll!" Blossom said, mischevious.

"Now, remember, the more they've got, the less they're worth." Timmy said, chuckling.

"Then this boy must be the most worthless boy in America." Blossom said, sarcastically.

Timmy joked as he pointed at some Tribal armor from Africa, "He must have been King of the Wicker People, too."

Then he points at a sword as he asks, "Where's this from?"

"It's Japanese," Dexter said, catching the two reporters by surprise. "I know, because that's where I bought it from."

"Who are you?" Timmy asks, curious as he shakes Dexter's hand.

"Dexter Cavanaugh." Dexter said, smiling.

"Timothy Turner." Timmy said.

"Ah, I've read your stories, compared to this other kid from the New York Junior Post...is his name Neutron or something...good work." Dexter said.

Dexter flips a polite smile at Knox then switches smoothly to Blossom, who is amused at being had by Dexter. She sticks out her hand.

"Blossom Plutonium." Blossom greeted.

"Hi. Dexter, Boy Genius." Dexter greeted as well as he shook her hand.

"Sure about that?" Blossom joked.

"Yes." Dexter chuckled lightly. He then said in an impressed tone, "I've seen your photos. You've got an extraordinary eye, especially about the Corto Maltese!"

Blossom blushes, Dexter is charming to her. Timmy's territorial instincts arouse as he said, "Some people think she has two."

"I might shoot this amazing house." Blossom said, impressed.

A wine steward enters as he says, "Mr. Cavanaugh, we need to open another few cases of the Champagne. Is that alright?"

"Sure, open six, go ahead." Dexter said, relaxed. Then he said to Blossom, "Anyway, how long are you going to be staying in Chicago?"

"I'd love to, Jimmy told me about these stories about this Vigilante kid before heading back to New York." Blossom said.

"Oh, DexStar." Dexter said, humored. "Right."

"So what do you do for a living?" Blossom asks.

"Well, I..." Dexter said, before Bill entered the room.

"Uh, Dex, Chris Griffin was ordered to leave." Bill said.

"Oh, thanks, Bill."

"Very unexpectedly, kid."

His smile soon turns into a stern, intrigued face as Dexter got what's going on. He said, "Could you excuse me, for a sec?"

He then said to a leaving Bill, "Oh, Mr. Dauterieve, the adults need more wine, and someone named Rita Loud wanted a copy of the menu, and give Lynn Sr.'s daughter a grant."

Bill nods as Dexter heads out of the armory and into a different dark room.

"Nice meeting you, Dex." Timmy said.

"Hey, can we carry on this conversation tommorow night?" Blossom asks.

"Sure." Dexter said as he shut the door.

"The rich can be afford to be odd." Timmy joked, "Look at this mirror!"

And indeed, the two of them are standing before an enormous wall mirror, eight feet wide, running from floor to ceiling. Unbeknownst to them that behind the mirror is a one-way glass. Behind the mirror... recording everything that happens in the room... is a small, silent, state-of-the-art surveilance camera.

And watching this is Dexter as he sits near a bunch of monitor screens in a dark, vast cage. On another screen, guests move backward exaggerated speed as the tape rewinds. At the panel, Dexter hits a button, and watches commissioner Chris Griffin talking to an officer.

"What now, Cleveland Jr.?" Chris asks.

"Cartman's cleaning out Schaal Chemicals." Cleveland Junior replied.

"We'd get our hands on Marsh if we could capture Cartman!" Chris said, excitedly. He's finally going to finish this nightmare in Chicago, but one thing seems amiss, "Wait, why didn't Roberta or Meg or even Tucker tell me? Who's in charge?"

"Pesto Jr., Chris." The African American cop cringed.

"Oh, goddammit." Chris groaned.

And suddenly Chris is grabbing for his coat. The monitor is turned off. Getting up, Dexter is somehow different. More relaxed. He stands up as he gathers himself. Focuses inwardly in a way that empowers him as he takes off his glasses and puts on a black mask with purple lenses, determined to go out and help the commisioner...whether it benefits him or not...and even if it has dark tidings for Cartman's path to madness.


End file.
